A/N This one's heavy, doc. Also, Eduard's stepdad is APH Netherlands.
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Chapter 5
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Tilsit, East Prussia, 1863
The inn stood just off the market square on a narrow street meandering carelessly down to the river. The plaster and timber frame sunk inward, as if the walls were in dire need of repair. They probably were, thought Eduard, as he eyed the building apprehensively, the way it slouched against the ones surrounding it, as if they were the only thing holding it up.
He pushed his glasses up his nose. This hardly seemed like a place his cousin would have chosen. Himself, on the other hand...well, he'd stayed in worse.
Eduard dug the telegram out of his pocket and checked the address again. It was right — this was the place. He flipped the card over as if it could offer up something else — some other clue as to why his cousin was staying — in Tilsit, of all places — at an inn that looked ready to collapse in on itself. But the back of the telegram was maddeningly blank.
Eduard sighed, adjusted the suitcase in his hand, and entered.
A surly-looking barman led him up a winding set of stairs to the top floor. Eduard had to duck his head to keep from knocking it against the sloping roof.
Tauras' room was the third door on the right.
Eduard thanked the barman, then ensuring he was alone in the hallway, took a moment to compose himself — smoothing jacket lapels and flattening hair and cleaning glasses — and drew a deep, steadying breath. Though they corresponded regularly, it had been a few years since he'd last seen Tauras. And though Eduard had no qualms regarding sharing his exploits in letters, he certainly did not want to look the part of a con artist thief. He wanted to look every bit as respectable — as noble — as Tauras had.
Chin up, eyes down, mouth set. Eduard lifted a hand. And knocked.
The face that greeted him, though, was not the one he remembered.
When they were boys, Tauras had been a field of grass on a summer day, warm and vibrant. That spirit had since left him, and he just seemed...hollowed out. Tauras was thin, his shoulders rounded. A shadow hung behind his eyes — eyes that would not look at Eduard, but around him, through him.
Eduard's lofty guise melted at the sight of his cousin. He set his suitcase down just inside the door and scooped Tauras into a tight embrace.
Air hissed through his cousin's teeth, his shoulders tensing.
Eduard let go and stepped back, alarmed. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm fine," Tauras said — and Eduard could not help notice the quaver in his voice, nor the pained look creasing his brow.
"No, you're not."
"I said I'm fine, Ed."
Eduard studied him — the shadow lurking in his eyes, the subtle way his shoulders shifted up and down. He noted the shirt, the coarse cotton weave unlike the finer cloth he had last seen his cousin wearing.
Eduard frowned. "What happened to you?" he asked softly.
Tauras raked a hand through his disheveled hair, shaking his head. "I need a drink," he muttered as he shouldered past his cousin, descending to the bar below.
Eduard followed him down the stairs, eyes catching on the faint, rust-colored lines hatching across the back of Tauras' shirt.
They sat at a small table near a window, the glass fogged from tobacco smoke and factory soot. The city beyond looked just as dulled under a hazy summer sky. The surly barman that had shown Eduard upstairs brought over two clay mugs of beer, all but throwing them onto the table.
"Welcome to Prussia," Eduard said under his breath as the barman stalked off. He picked up his mug, drinking a long draught.
Moments later, a young woman brought over two bowls of stew and a loaf of rye bread. Eduard flashed her a smile out of habit. She returned it, cheeks reddening as he gave her a swift, appraising look over, but she had nothing on her worth pickpocketing. He turned back to Tauras, who was idly stirring his stew.
"So," Eduard said, "Tilsit. Are you going to tell me what's going on? Why the hell you're here" — he glanced around — "in this hovel of an inn? The last thing I heard from you, you were at the seminary. And don't you dare tell me you've come here to minister to these people. I know priests take a vow of poverty and everything, but the last time I checked, they don't dress like workmen. You can't lie to a conman, cousin. Lies are what I do for a living, and yours are terrible."
"I'm not a priest," Tauras said quietly.
Eduard's mouth settled into a thin line, his eyes blazing behind his glasses. Corresponding for years in letters had made him forget just how obstinate his cousin could be. Because letters could be edited. That part of yourself you did not wish to show could be hidden, buried with words — or else removed completely.
"You asked me to come here," he pressed. "The least you could do is tell me why."
"Is it wrong of me to want to see a familiar face?"
Eduard folded his arms. "Stop avoiding the question."
Tauras' eyes drifted up to lock on his cousin's. Eduard felt himself shrink away at the look they held. Tauras flicked his gaze around the bar, but they were its only occupants. The barmaid had gone back to the kitchen, and the man was nowhere to be seen.
"I left the seminary, and I can't go back home. That's all you need to know."
Eduard scowled, drinking his beer. It was just like when they were boys. Tauras, the leader; Eduard, following his every word. Tauras, the nobleman's son; Eduard, the bastard-child-turned-serving-boy, following his master's orders. They would never be equals, no matter how much Tauras had promised it when they were younger. Whether he knew it or not, Tauras still behaved much like the entitled boy he was raised to be, believing his word would forever be final.
"You plan to stay here, then?" Eduard asked, a cutting edge to his voice.
"Yes. I don't have much of a choice."
Eduard arched a brow, finishing his beer. "Don't you? You could have gone anywhere — Berlin, Munich— but you chose Tilsit and can't even deign to tell me why." He pulled his bowl of stew closer, tearing a piece of bread from the loaf and dipped it in, watching his cousin. "What does your family think, of you living here?"
"They don't know. For all I know, they still think I'm at the seminary, or — " Tauras broke off, shaking his head. The shadow was back behind his eyes. He drank deeply from his beer mug.
"There are other Lithuanians here," Tauras continued, as if to himself. "I just need to make contact. They'll have ways of knowing what's happening back home."
Eduard's eyes narrowed as he slowly chewed his bread. Pieces of the puzzle were gradually falling into place. "You're talking as if...this is something permanent."
Tauras looked at him a moment, as if disbelieving his cousin could really be that obtuse. "Of course it's permanent, Ed. I already told you: I can't go back home."
"No, I know that, but it's just...I'm trying to understand — and help you understand — whatever's happened, you're on your own now. Do you know what that means, truly?"
"Yes — "
"Then what's your plan?" Eduard asked, tipping his chin back. A challenge. For once, he had the upper hand. For once, his cousin would have to listen to him.
"I have money. It's not much, but it'll support me until I can find work."
Eduard shook his head. "Unfortunately, it's not as simple as you make it sound. Be honest with yourself — you haven't worked a day in your life. What skills do you have? What experience? You can paint and draw, play piano, speak four languages — that's fine for impressing the ladies and gentlemen of society, but you're not in that world anymore."
Tauras bristled. "I haven't been in that world for the past three years, or have you forgotten?"
"I'd hardly count the seminary as useful," Eduard retorted, "unless you plan to join a monastery."
"You know nothing of where I've been or what I've done — " Tauras' teeth clacked together as he cut himself off mid-sentence. He shoved himself up from the table. "This was a mistake." He turned and stormed out of the inn.
"Shit." Eduard sighed, adjusted his glasses, and stood. He tossed a few coins onto the table for their meal, then left to find his cousin.
Tauras was seated on the banks of the Memel, elbows resting on his knees, staring across the river. He turned, hearing the crunch of sandy gravel behind him.
"You always did like the water," Eduard remarked, hands resting in his pockets. "I remember following you through the woods to the stream when we were younger. And Nanny finding us and scolding us every single time."
Tauras bowed his head, a faint smile softening the hard edges of his face. "She should have known not to sit on the terrace when she took us outside. The sun always made her fall asleep, and we'd always sneak away then."
Eduard chuckled at the memory. He sat down beside his cousin. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you back there. We've always been honest with each other. But something's changed that."
Tauras swallowed, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "It's not your fault. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to see a familiar face. I did — I do. But seeing you — here — all of a sudden...it made everything seem too real. Everything that's happened the past few days...it feels like it belongs to someone else's life, not mine."
"What has happened?" Eduard asked gently.
Tauras looked at his cousin, his face stricken. "I was caught, Ed."
Eduard's brow furrowed. "You mean like — like last time, when your brother — "
Tauras shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. "No. Nothing like that. Though I'm sure I've only further disgraced myself as far as my father is concerned." He picked up a rock, thumb brushing over its smooth, worn surface. "I'm a traitor to the empire. I was arrested and punished as such. And that's what I mean when I say I can't go home. If I do, I'll just be arrested again — only this time I'm sure my sentence won't be as lenient as a whipping and a train ride to Siberia."
Eduard's face paled under the waning afternoon sun. His eyes flicked to his cousin's back, to the faint marks on his shirt.
Tauras' shoulders shifted. "And that's not even the worst of it," he said, casting a sidelong glance at his cousin. "I left the seminary and joined the uprising. We thought we could overthrow the empire and get our country back. It sounds so foolish to say now, but..." His voice trailed away, eyes growing distant. "It was such a simple plan. We ambushed them, these Russians soldiers — my squadron did — and one of them was right there in my sights but I...I c-couldn't — I couldn't shoot him."
"I ran, Ed," he rasped. "I turned and I ran, and now they're dead because of me. I failed my country just as I failed my men."
They sat in silence, listening to the steady trickle of the river as it gently flowed by the bank.
"I tried to cross the border," Tauras continued, voice thick, "but a Russian soldier recognized me — one of the ones from the ambush. I was brought to the customs house in Tauragė and sentenced to Kara. Needless to say, I escaped. I hid in the back of a wagon and crossed into Prussia four days ago. Though...there's a part of me that thinks I should have stayed — stayed and...finished my sentence instead of running again. I owe my men that much, at least."
Tauras let the rock fall from his hand. Eduard placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Words of assurance, of comfort, clung to the tip of his tongue, but he knew it would do his cousin no good to hear them just now. They would sound empty and trite compared to the immeasurable guilt Tauras sought to atone for. Sometimes, the only thing you could do was sit with someone and watch the water.
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o
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Eduard went for a walk around Tilsit later that evening. If Tauras did indeed plan to make this city his new home, they would need better lodgings. Eduard included himself in that measure because, as he told his cousin, he may have worn out his welcome in Chemnitz. Actually most of Saxony, really. So he set out, scouting the rest of the city to see where they might feasibly purchase accommodations. Tauras told him of the money he'd managed to get from the estate. Paired with Eduard's share from his last con, they would be able to live decently for a few months. But there was still the problem of work. Tauras would need a job and Eduard would need to make contacts as soon as possible. Though he would need to use discretion — Tilsit was nowhere near as big as the cities in Saxony — and his cousin would not appreciate being run out of town after only having just arrived.
Most of the Lithuanian population clustered around the riverfront or around the Lithuanian church further inland. Eduard took this information back to his cousin, along with noting a few help wanted signs hanging in windows near their vicinity.
When he got back to their room, he found his cousin standing in front of the dresser mirror. A basin of water rested on a table nearby. Tauras had removed his shirt and was gingerly cleaning the cuts criss-crossing his back, shoulders tensing as he caught sight of Eduard reflected in the mirror.
Eduard lowered his head, averting his gaze. "Sorry. I...guess I should have knocked first."
Tauras simply stared back — that same hollow stare from earlier. All sound seemed to be sucked from the room, save for the steady drip of water from the rag in his hand as he squeezed it over the basin.
"I, um, might have something for that," Eduard said, eyes flicking up to his cousin's, then back down.
The tension eased from Tauras. He lowered the rag, giving a near imperceptible nod of his head.
Eduard went to his suitcase, his movements stiff, limbs feeling like they belonged to someone else and not him. He knelt and flicked open the latches, taking a moment to collect himself as he lifted the lid, uncomfortably aware of his cousin watching him the whole time. There, resting on top, was a black leather case. Eduard took it out and set it on the bed, making a quick rummage through it.
"You travel with a medical kit?" Tauras asked.
"I travel with everything all the time," Eduard said, trying to keep his voice light. "You never know when you'll have to pretend to be a surgeon." He spun around, holding up a roll of dressing and a container of salve.
The curiously amused expression Tauras wore as he watched his cousin shifted and became closed once again. Like a cloud passing over the sun, Eduard thought.
Tauras wordlessly approached and sat on the bed. Eduard patted his back dry with a clean cloth and began applying the salve. It had a woody smell, and he'd used it before to treat everything from scrapes and boils to eczema — much to his former patients' satisfaction. He often thought if he had been able to keep with his schooling, he would have liked to become a doctor. A real doctor. It was probably why he spent so many years watching and imitating them, pretending to be them — and stealing whatever medical instruments he could get his hands on.
Eduard applied the dressing once he was finished with the salve, his eyes catching on the small golden cross around his cousin's neck. He remembered the letter Tauras had sent him, almost a year after he had left boarding school. They were both sixteen and Tauras was absolutely besotted with his best friend from childhood. Eduard had already known this. Had known long before his cousin knew it himself, from the way Tauras would talk of Feliks in his letters to Eduard.
"Do you still think of him?" Eduard asked, nodding at the cross.
"Sometimes." A sad smile passed over Tauras' lips. "I suppose I was lucky my father sent me to become a priest instead of forcing me into the imperial army, like Feliks' father did to him." He reached up, closing his hand around the cross. "Mostly though, I just hope he's safe."
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o
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Leipzig, Germany, 1857-1863
The laugh was still on Eduard's face as he rounded the stairs, counting the money he had just swindled from the boys in the school's courtyard. It was the afternoon recess, just before the next block of classes were due to start. The empty walnut shells clicked together in his pocket as he made his way down the hall to the dormitories. The younger ones were such easy targets, he mused. But even some of the older boys had joined in, placing bets on which shell they thought the pebble was under. No one ever guessed right, though. Not unless Eduard let them, to show the game was indeed fair. He learned that one the hard way when Mathias blacked his eye after losing five games in a row last month. Eduard decided to change his strategy. He couldn't always win — it would drive off business. And business, that day, was good.
Eduard pocketed the money as he entered the room he shared with seven other boys. He was halfway through sliding his trunk out from under his bed when the sharp clearing of a throat made him startle and spin around.
The headmaster stood framed in the doorway. The smile vanished from Eduard's face. His first thought was that he'd been caught, that he'd have to give the money back and spend the rest of the week on kitchen duty. It wouldn't be the first time. But as the headmaster stepped in, two more people followed him as well. Two faces Eduard had not seen in five years.
"Hello, Eduard," Juozas said, in a language at once familiar and yet sounding so foreign after hearing and speaking nothing but German for so long. If Eduard had not kept up correspondence with his cousin or read the book on Lithuanian myths Tauras had given him every night just before bed, the simple greeting would have been lost on him.
Tauras stood behind his father, sending Eduard a small wave. It was a shock to see his cousin now, his boyish face thinned into something more angular, his brown hair grown longer and waved back from his face, as was the style.
Eduard looked from his cousin to his uncle to the headmaster, who finally addressed him: "Your uncle has something he wishes to discuss."
"Please, let's take a walk," Juozas said, this time switching to German. He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "You can show us the grounds. It's a lovely day."
Eduard's eyes narrowed. Though the rain from that morning had stopped, the sky remained overcast. A damp chill hung in the November air.
"But I have classes soon," he said.
The headmaster shook his head. He wore the same kind of smile as Juozas. "It's all right, Eduard. No need to worry about your lessons today. Go with your uncle. I'll let your teachers know of your absence."
Eduard pushed his trunk back under the bed with one foot, then shoved his hands in his pockets, fingers curling firmly around the walnut shells and money he had won. He shouldered past his uncle to lead them down the stairs, hardly caring if they kept up. He set off for the main academic building, behind which stood a small pond, and only slowed once he reached the far end, away from the building entrance and the boys gathering for afternoon classes.
"Why are you here?" he asked, rounding on his uncle.
Juozas, stopped short by the sudden question, stared agape a few moments, catching his breath.
"It can't be anything good," Eduard continued.
"And why would you think that?" Juozas asked, regaining the imperious manner Eduard had remembered from his youth.
"Because I have not heard a word from you — or him — in five years. And now here you are, all of a sudden, without even a letter letting me know."
"Unfortunately the matter I'm here to discuss is rather too delicate to put in a letter."
Eduard glanced at his cousin, standing in Juozas' shadow, searching for some clue as to why they were there. Guilt darkened Tauras' eyes as he averted his gaze, telling Eduard his cousin knew — knew, and had not warned him first.
"My brother has never had a mind for financial responsibility," Juozas continued. "It's something I've tried remedying, but when it comes to money, he unfortunately cannot see past the present."
A sudden wind rippled across the pond, pulling at the hem of Juozas' long woolen coat. Eduard pressed his fists further into his pockets, shoulders rounding in his worn jacket, shivering and wishing his uncle would get on with it.
"Benas has come into debt," Juozas stated bluntly. "His arrears from gambling and other expenses have forced me to take control of his assets until his debts can be settled."
Eduard eyed his uncle shrewdly. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. "And what does that mean for me?"
Juozas sighed. For a moment, Eduard almost thought he seemed remorseful. "This school is an expense we can no longer bear to support. You can either stay here in Leipzig and find work or return with us to Lithuania. I can put you in contact with an affluent family who would hire you — "
"As a servant?" Eduard interjected.
"You would have a comfortable life, Eduard. Better than you would have here."
"And be separated — again! — from my family!"
A look of hurt flitted across Tauras' face at the forcefulness — and unspoken implication — of his cousin's words.
Eduard shook his head. "I'm no longer your charge anymore. I'm staying."
Juozas' jaw clenched. "Very well. Then pack your things. My carriage will take you to your mother's house."
Eduard spun on his heel, heading back to his dormitory. He heard footsteps hurrying to catch up to him and knew they belonged to Tauras. But Eduard's longer legs easily outpaced his cousin's.
A few boys greeted him as he mounted the stairs, taking two at a time. Eduard blew by them. He did not want to see their faces, did not want to see the looks they gave him once they found out.
Eduard had his trunk packed in minutes and was soon carrying it down the stairs with Tauras' help. Neither one spoke.
The carriage was just pulling up as the boys were coming outside. Eduard's trunk was loaded and secured on the back. He climbed inside, sitting opposite his cousin and uncle as the carriage began its journey.
They drove from the forested suburbs deep into the central part of the city. Four- and six-story buildings sprung up around them, their elaborately ornate facades reflecting a Renaissance style, though they were hardly a decade old and built to accommodate Leipzig's growing wealthy population. Eduard looked away in disgust. They travelled east, past the market and university, where the buildings were far less impressive. Sensing the shift in scenery, Eduard turned his attention back to the window. Factory towers dotted the skyline, their soot blackened chimneys churning out steady coal-dark clouds. The homes here were built out of a need for space. As the city center swelled with wealthy new merchants and factory owners, so too did its outskirts. Factories needed workers, and Leipzig suddenly found itself in the middle of an economic boom as more and more people moved into the city. In between older structures, new ones went up — brick and plaster boxes filling in the gaps along the street. Eduard's mother's house, though, had been here long before that.
The carriage slowed as it approached the street corner. At the end stood a narrow, timber framed house. Built by Eduard's grandfather — a man whom he had never met — and left to his mother shortly before Eduard came to Leipzig, its plaster coating was gone in places, exposing crumbling brick infill between the wood beams. A few of the other houses near it were in similar states of disrepair. Feeling heat rise up his neck, Eduard ducked his head, momentarily catching his cousin's gaze. Questions blazed behind his cousin's eyes, but Eduard would not speak to him — not yet and not in front of his uncle.
Without waiting for the driver, Eduard opened the door and stepped out, fingers already loosening the ropes holding his trunk when Tauras approached. Juozas remained in the carriage.
"Can I help?"
"I can manage," Eduard said stiffly.
But Tauras, refusing to be put off by his cousin any longer, grabbed a handle and helped hoist the trunk down.
Eduard's gaze flicked up, a smirk playing across his lips as they carried it up to the front door. "What kind of a nobleman's son are you?"
Tauras gave a breathy laugh. "Not a good one, apparently."
"I can take it from here," Eduard said.
A small crease formed between Tauras' eyebrows — a reluctance, a hesitation, as if letting go of the handle meant letting go of his Eduard.
"I'm sorry, Ed," he said, the words whispered, an urgent breath. "He swore me not to tell you. I had to beg just to come along."
Eduard glanced over his cousin's shoulder, at the black carriage waiting on the street. "It's all right," he said gently. "I'm not mad at you."
The tension eased from Tauras' face with a sigh. "I wish you would reconsider. I wish you would...would come back home."
Eduard's face became solemn. "But it's not my home."
"And...here is?" Tauras said, eyeing the crumbling building.
Eduard shrugged.
Tauras' lips formed a thin line as he looked at his cousin. He set his end of the trunk down.
"I'll write," Eduard said, "as soon as I'm settled here." He jerked his head at the house behind him.
Tauras nodded. "You'd better," he said, his voice brittle. He pulled his cousin into a hug a moment before departing.
Eduard watched him go, watched the carriage as it trundled off down the cobbled street. He then turned to the door and knocked.
It was soon answered by a man with a mop of short blonde hair and sharp green eyes. A clay pipe stuck out of his mouth, the smoke wreathing his face.
"The hell're you doing here?"
"Last time I checked, this was my house, too."
"Yeah, and last time I checked, you were off at your fancy school."
"Can I just come in, okay, instead of freezing out here?"
The man, Jan, was Eduard's stepfather. He and Eduard's mother had married last year at the end of summer, after only a three month engagement.
Jan leaned against the doorway, arms folded. "Not 'til you tell me why you're here."
Eduard groaned, knocking Jan aside with his shoulder as he pushed past, dragging his trunk behind him.
Jan gripped his arm, pulling him back. "Hey! I'm in the middle of a business meeting."
"I thought you did those at the pub," Eduard hissed.
"Yeah. I did. But, circumstances being what they are and all that, we had to move the center of our operations."
"Christ. If my mother knew — "
"She does," Jan said, letting go of Eduard's arm. "Liese suggested it, actually."
Voices filtered from the kitchen down the narrow hall, calling Jan's name.
"Look, just go upstairs, unpack your stuff, and be quiet. I'll be done soon."
Not wanting to argue anymore, Eduard dragged his case up to his room.
It was another hour before he heard the sound of voices again, the front door opening and shutting, the sound of his stepfather's feet mounting the stairs. Eduard sat on his bed, his feet resting on top of his unopened suitcase. After living out of it for so long at the boarding school, it always felt strange coming home and having a place to keep his things, if only for a little while. Though, he supposed, he ought to get used to it now.
Eduard looked up as Jan entered. His stepfather was holding two cups of coffee. Jan handed one to Eduard as he took a seat next to him on the bed.
"You get kicked out?" Jan asked, nodding at the case.
"Why would you think that?" Eduard said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.
Jan shrugged. "Thought it might have something to do with these." He reached into a pocket and took out three walnut shells.
Eduard's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Give those back!" He made a grab for them, but Jan pulled away with a laugh.
"You oughta be more careful when you pass by people," his stepfather said. "Anyone could just reach into your pocket and snatch whatever you've got." He handed the shells back to Eduard. "You know how to use those?"
"Of course," Eduard said, bristling.
"Show me."
Eduard sighed and knelt down beside his trunk. Jan joined him, sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing his stepson. Eduard arranged the shells in a line on top of the trunk, placing the pebble under the middle one. He shifted the shells' positions around three times, this time lifting the one on the right to reveal the stone. He shuffled them again five times, all the while keeping up a steady stream of chatter meant to distract his mark, though he knew such a trick was useless on Jan. The man was a professional con artist.
When he was done, Eduard arranged the shells in a neat line before him.
"Where's the pebble?" he asked.
Jan studied the shells. "If I were some poor wagering sap, I'd say the middle one."
Eduard made to lift it. Jan caught him by the wrist and smirked. "But unfortunately for you, I'm not just another sap. It's in your hand." He flipped Eduard's wrist over and gave a squeeze. The boy uncurled his fingers, revealing a round, white pebble.
"It's a clever trick. Your sleight of hand would've fooled just about anyone."
"Except you."
Jan grinned. "Except me." He sipped his coffee, then asked: "Where'd you learn it?"
"There was a traveller carnival that passed through at the end of August. Me and couple of boys snuck off to go see it. One of them nearly lost his whole purse on the shell game. When we got back to the dormitory, I started practicing, trying to figure it out — but the stupid pebble kept rolling out from under the shell. That's when I realized how they did it."
"And is that why they kicked you out?"
"I told you, I didn't get kicked out. My father — " Eduard stopped himself, pressing his lips tight together.
The grin slid away from Jan's face, replaced by the serious look that always made Eduard wonder if he was plotting murder. "What about him?"
Eduard lowered his gaze and drank his coffee, anything to avoid the piercing stare Jan was now giving him.
"He...can't afford it anymore," Eduard said quietly. "His brother told me today. Said I could either go back to Lithuania with him or stay here. So I picked here." He glanced up at Jan. His stepfather's face momentarily softened hearing Eduard had chosen Leipzig — and by extension, him — over returning with a man that wanted nothing to do with him. Jan clapped a hand on Eduard's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
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o
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Later that evening, Eduard was in the kitchen, helping Jan clean the dishes from the evening meal. His mother, Liese, came home just as the bells in the city square were chiming six times. She worked at one of the textile factories and was overjoyed to see her son. Jan had prepared dinner, watched by an astonished Eduard. He had seen his stepfather cook before, but that was over the summer when he only thought Jan was doing it to impress his mother in their brief courtship.
The house was quiet that evening, save for the occasional splash and drip as Jan dunked a plate into a tub of water then handed it ff to Eduard to dry. It had been that way since dinner, when Eduard again recounted for his mother why he was home. Her face became doleful at the mention of Benas. Jan picked moodily at his food. No further conversation was to be had after that.
Then Liese started to cough, the sound wet and phlegmy. She rubbed a hand against her chest, clearing her throat when she was done, excusing herself, saying she had not much of an appetite. Jan suggested she lie down, but Liese waved him off insisting she was fine. She went into the living room and began working on some knitting. Eduard and his stepfather finished their meal and began cleaning up.
Even now, as Eduard helped dry the dishes, he could hear his mother clearing her throat or giving a subdued cough. He had the impression she was doing her best to hold it back, so it would not sound as bad as it had at dinner.
"How long has she been sick?" he asked.
"It started in September," Jan said. "At first, the doctor thought it was just a cold. But what cold lasts two months? He eventually gave her laudanum for the pain in her chest. He won't outright say it, but we both know. It's consumption."
Eduard's hands went slack, the plate he was drying nearly slipping from his grip. He caught it just in time and set it in the cabinet with trembling fingers.
"She didn't want you to worry," Jan continued, answering the question now flitting through Eduard's head. "That's why we didn't tell you."
"And when were you going to?" Eduard hissed under his breath. "When it was too late?"
Jan's shoulders sunk. In the other room, Liese coughed again. Jan dried his hands on a towel and went to check on her. Eduard could hear them talking in low voices, his stepfather gently coaxing his mother to go to bed and get some rest. He put away the last of the dishes then took the water basin outside to dump. When he returned, he found his stepfather sitting at the kitchen table, a freshly lit pipe stuck between his teeth.
"What's you plan now you have no more school?"
Eduard's eyes narrowed. "What, just like that, you expect me to — "
"I understand you're angry. At me, your old man, hell maybe even your mother. And that's fine. Be angry. But it's not gonna fix any of what's happened. So you can either sit and stew or do something about it."
"...Like what?" Eduard said, seating himself across the table.
"Like helping me with a job."
"And what good will that do?" Eduard scoffed, folding his arms.
"It'll get us money, for one thing. Money that could afford a better doctor — one that might know how to treat your mother properly. And for another, well...it'd put a sting on those snobs living in the city's center. I'm talking about an art heist," Jan said at the confused look etched across Eduard's brow.
"I know it's not exactly anything to do with your old man, but it would still be a hit to those of his ilk," Jan continued, puffing on his pipe.
"And you want me to help?"
Jan nodded, glancing at Eduard's hands. "You'd prove a useful distraction with that trick of yours. Also a good way to canvass the area, having you set up a little table for a penny shell game, and keeping a watch out for any regular patrols, people coming and going, things like that."
Eduard regarded his stepfather skeptically. "Wouldn't I just stick out? I mean, we don't exactly look like we belong."
Jan waved the comment away. "There's always buskers in the center. Rich folk toss 'em a coin and continue on their way, feeling they've done something charitable. Your little act would be no different."
"But I'm not playing a fiddle or dancing a jig. It's gambling."
"Which is why it's imperative to be watchful," Jan smirked. "Keep one eye on your game and the other on your surroundings at all times."
As he listened to his stepfather, Eduard felt a new weight settling on his shoulders. Yet this one was not as heavy as finding out his mother only had a year or two at most left to live, or the odd guilt he had been made to feel time and again over his own illegitimacy. No. This was something different. Something lighter. For once, he felt he belonged to something. For once, he felt wanted. It was a comforting weight, it seemed to Eduard, one that balanced out the other burdens of that day.
"Okay," he breathed. "What's the plan?"
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o
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Two years had passed since that fateful day. Two years since he had been forced from his school. Two years since he had made that decision to join his stepfather and help pull off what had been their biggest con up to that point. In the intervening years, they had fenced three more pieces of art, each one with a slightly higher price tag. Not that any of it did any good, for despite all the doctors, despite all the treatments, Liese still succumbed to her disease, passing just after her and Jan's third wedding anniversary. Eduard's stepfather became subdued after that. They went back to doing small jobs. Many days, Eduard would run his shell game, either in the streets or around the local pubs, while Jan drank away his grief.
Sometimes, when he could no longer stand to be around his sullen stepfather, Eduard would wander the streets of Leipzig, watching people, trying to imitate their style and mannerisms. He became so good at it, he had one restaurant believing he was the son of a wealthy mill owner and would always charge his meals to the man's account. He even found his way into a few university lectures this way. But of particular fascination for him were hospitals.
At boarding school, Eduard's instructors often lamented he had such potential, if only he would actually use it and apply himself. But the truth was, Eduard had used it. He had studiously applied himself his first three years there. The problem was the curriculum and instructors offered no further challenge after he continued to ace every bit of work or exam set to him. He quickly grew bored, realizing if the school wasn't going to put in the effort to challenge him academically, why should he put in the effort on assignments?
In the end, he felt fully justified coasting by those last two years as his education there came to its end through no fault of his own — unless you counted being born, Eduard thought bitterly. But, had he been able to continue his education, he often thought he should have liked to get into medicine. Science classes at least held some interest, even when nothing else did. And he found himself drawn more and more to the doctors that would come and examine his mother and prescribe different treatments. He would watch them and study the tools they used. He lied his way into operating theatres, pretending to be a student to watch surgeries while taking notes and making diagrams in a notebook. Later, he would stroll through the hospital, pocketing various instruments until he had amassed his own medical kit.
When Jan cut his hand during a late night breaking and entering job, Eduard cleaned and stitched up the gash. He became the medic of their small crew, patching up everything from bloody noses in bar fights to setting dislocated shoulders. And when he dreamed at night, it was always of his mother, and him finding a cure.
Eduard started posing as a real physician shortly after. Jan, however, wanted to keep using him as a lookout for wherever they staged their next job. But Eduard had grown bored cheating the public through his shell game. And what if one of his "patients" came upon the young doctor gambling in the street? His reputation would be ruined. He and Jan fought over it until Eduard finally decided to move. He would spend the next three years moving from city to city, setting up his own medical practice in each, until word of the talented young doctor reached the ears of licensed physicians and they came to investigate the upstart who was stealing all their patients away. But somehow the young doctor would be gone long before the authorities could get involved.
He returned to Chemnitz in the summer of 1863 only to find yellowing wanted posters of his face hanging on lampposts around the neighborhood where he ran his practice the year before. He went back to Leipzig, a city he had not set foot in, in years. He planned to lie low for a while, maybe even get a factory job — and there were certainly no shortage of them as even more smoke towers dotted the skyline. The city was booming. More and more people were moving in, meaning there were more marks to be had. Eduard felt himself growing restless and eager at the thought. But then Jan handed him the telegram. The one from his cousin. In Tilsit. And Eduard was gone again.
.
o
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Tauragė County, Lithuania, 1869
The woods rushed by in a blur as Eduard sped through them. The flat grey sky above offered no sun and therefore no indication of time, but that mattered little to him. All that mattered was his own desperation to get home.
Home. When had he started thinking of Tilsit as home? Strange, that. Maybe it always had been, in a way. Ever since he found Tauras at that inn. Ever since he had wrapped himself wholly, unwaveringly, into his cousin's book smuggling plans and dreams of helping his country. Tauras, for all that had happened to him, still believed in something. And it made Eduard believe too. Made him believe his talents could be used for something good, something meaningful, instead of selfish profit.
Too bad it had to take a chance run-in with his father for him to realize that.
Stupid, Eduard thought. You never should have come back looking for him.
He shoved aside a branch, boots crashing through the dead leaves and snow covering the forest floor. He was being incautious and he knew it, but the greater part of his mind was too consumed with thoughts of his father and images of the now empty estate his cousin once called home. He had to let Tauras know. But the house was soon obscured by his father as he knocked back another glass of vodka, his clothes patched, hair unkempt, an uneven gaze leveled at Eduard behind glasses smeared with grime. A portrait of a man ruined. But Benas' downfall was his own doing. A twinge of pity, of curiosity, tugged at Eduard when he had first seen his father a month ago. But he had been too scared, then, to try to approach. He returned home to Tilsit, but the questions only grew in the back of his mind. And he knew the only way to answer them was to return soon to Tauragė.
He had not been honest with Tauras. For perhaps the first time ever. He had only wanted to return to confront his father, to face his own feelings of inadequacy that had gnawed at him since his last trip and this one. Though he had not been prepared for what he discovered.
Eduard paused to catch his breath. He had been following the Jūra river out of Tauragė, pressing along at a strenuous pace for about an hour. He was almost to the border, but thirst had overcome him. Black dots swam at the edge of his vision, and he knew if he went any further, he would pass out. Eduard unslung his pack, making a quick rummage for his water canteen. Heat radiated off his face despite the cold. The back of his shirt was damp with sweat. The first sip of water was a welcome relief to his dry, aching throat. He smiled to himself, taking another sip, ready to thank whatever higher power his cousin still prayed to knowing he was almost home, when the snap of a twig behind him made his blood freeze.
"Hands!" commanded a voice in Russian.
Eduard's knowledge of the language was far more limited than Tauras', but he knew enough and slowly raised his hands in the air, the canteen falling from his grip.
"What was that?" the voice demanded. "What were you holding?"
"Just water," Eduard said.
"What are you doing out here?"
Eduard turned his head slightly to the right. Out of his periphery, he could just make out the blurred figure of an imperial soldier in a dark blue uniform standing about eight paces behind. Through the trees ahead stood flat, barren farm fields. The village of Laugszargen was just beyond. The border was so close. Eduard had two choices: he could either try to take on the soldier, or run.
In the space between one heart beat and another, he made his decision.
Eduard grabbed his backpack and took off.
He zigzagged through the woods, not daring to leave their cover until he was closer to Laugszargen. The soldier was close behind. Eduard heard two rounds go off from the man's revolver, flinging off bark from a nearby tree. He cursed. That had been close. Too close. As much as he needed the cover, the trees were also making maneuverability difficult. Branches snagged his coat, his pack. He needed open space if he was to outpace the soldier. Eduard turned and ran for the field as another bullet flew by.
The houses of Laugszargen came into view. Another few minutes, and he would be there. But the soldier showed no sign of relenting. He would not stop at the border. Eduard would need to find a place to hide. The thought was like an added weight. He felt suddenly heavier knowing this was not yet over. Eduard's pace slowed a half step. Exhaustion had started to drain him. Exhaustion from the trip and exhaustion from the chase. His breath came in dry, ragged gasps. His muscles ached. A sharp pain thrummed in his side. But it was nothing compared to the sudden iron-hot burn that tore through his left shoulder.
Eduard had been shot.
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A/N(2) Holy cliffhanger, Batman!